


The One Where Phoebe is Right

by cdybedahl



Category: Friends (TV)
Genre: BDSM, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27206968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cdybedahl/pseuds/cdybedahl
Summary: Rachel discovers that Phoebe can be uncannily perceptive when it comes to others, and does not mind telling them about it when asked.
Relationships: Monica Geller/Rachel Green, Phoebe Buffay/Rachel Green
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31
Collections: Femslash Exchange 2020





	1. Phoebe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HogwartsToAlexandria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/gifts).



> With thanks to my dear wife for the beta-reading.

It was all because of that stupid bet. If it hadn't been for the bet, Rachel wouldn't have been living in an apartment she loathed. If she hadn't been living in an apartment she loathed, she wouldn't have spent as much time as possible elsewhere. And if not for that, she wouldn't have been hanging around in Phoebe's apartment just at the wrong time. Or right time. Some sort of time.  
She and Phoebe hadn't been doing anything in particular. Chatting. Having a couple of glasses of wine. Rachel had been looking through catalogs, imagining that she was the one deciding what should be in there or not. Which would never happen, now that she'd been kicked down to personal shopper. At some point Phoebe had vanished into her bedroom, from where she replied monosyllabically to Rachel's fashion comments. Everything was just smooth and ordinary. Until someone knocked on the door.  
"Um, Pheebs?" Rachel said loudly. "There's someone at the door?"  
"Oh, yeah, that'll be my date," Phoebe shouted from the bedroom. "Could you open please?"  
"Date?" Rachel said as she got up off the couch. "You have a date?"  
"Yeah," Phoebe shouted back. "We've gone out a couple of times. Had some fun. Nothing serious."  
"Is he...?" Rachel said as she opened the door, and her train of thought derailed.  
Outside the door was a woman. About the same height as Rachel. Long, black hair flowing shiny down her shoulders. Smooth olive skin. Dark, dark brown eyes. She was wearing a worn brown leather jacket over a purple figure-hugging dress and finished with a pair of black combat boots. The combination shouldn't work, but somehow it did.  
"Am I what?" she said.  
Her voice was melodious, a perfect counterpart to her beautiful face.  
Rachel put on her widest smile.  
"Hi!" she said. "Are you Phoebe's date?"  
"I am," the stranger said.  
She blatantly looked Rachel up and down.  
"Are you joining us?" she said. "I'm normally not much for threesomes, but I'll make an exception for you, gorgeous."  
"What?" Rachel said. "I..."  
"Oh, no," Phoebe said from behind her. "She won't. She thinks she's straight."  
She pushed her way past Rachel and gave the visitor a quick kiss. Right on the lips.  
"Hi," they both said at the same time.  
Rachel stared. At the kiss, yes, but also at Phoebe. Who was wearing _very_ tight black leather pants, a black leather bustier with chrome studs on it and lace-up stiletto-heel boots. A riding crop was hanging from a chrome-studded belt. Her hair was in a tight braid.  
"Rachel, this is Denise," Phoebe said. "Denise, this is my friend Rachel."  
Denise held out her hand. Her nails had little paintings on them, but were still cut short.  
"Hi, Rachel," she said.  
Rachel shook her hand. It was nice and soft.  
"Hi, Denise," she said.  
"Come on," Phoebe said. "We need to move."  
"Yes, mistress," Denise said.  
They headed down the corridor, Phoebe's arm around Denise's waist.  
"Lock up when you leave," Phoebe said over her shoulder. "And I don't think you want to be here when we return."  
"Right," Rachel said. "Cool. I'll be gone."  
She kept looking after them until they entered the elevator. Then she returned into the apartment. She closed the door and fell back leaning against it.  
"Huh," she said to the air in general. "So that was a thing."  
And that was when it finally registered what Phoebe has said. She frowned.  
"Hey!" she said. "What do you mean I _think_ I'm straight?"

The question wouldn't leave her mind. Did she just imagine that she was straight? Was she really attracted to women, in a sexual way? If she was, wouldn't she have noticed at some point?  
Like, for example, that time back in college when she kissed Melissa Warburton.  
She'd liked that. Quite a lot. She wouldn't have minded doing it again. She was just too scared of what the rest of the sorority sisters would say. Also, Melissa herself never mentioned it. Bringing it up would've felt weird. Rachel wasn't even sure that Melissa remembered their make out session at all.  
Would she have gone further than kissing, given the chance and a willing Melissa? If they'd been just a little less drunk, would the coconut shells and hula skirts have gone away and their make-out turned into lovemaking? She tried imagining it that way, as if it had gone on after where it ended in reality, just to see at what point she felt like it would have had gone too far.  
Except that point never seemed to come, no matter how far imaginary Rachel went.

"You've been in a weird mood lately," Monica said a few days later. "What's going on?"  
They were at home, in their new crappy apartment, at the end of a long workday. Monica was at the stove, cooking something. Rachel was in an armchair, trying to read Cosmo.  
"I was at Phoebe's the other day," Rachel said.  
"I see," Monica said. "She must've done something pretty odd even for her, to make you go all quiet for this long."  
"Did you know she dates girls?" Rachel said.  
Monica lifted the spoon she'd been stirring whatever it was with out of the pot, blew on it and carefully tasted it. She put it back, and added a pinch more of some spice to the pot.  
"Oh, right," she said. "Yeah, she did that for a time while she was living with me. A model from somewhere in Africa. Six foot tall and _super_ hot. Like, really, _wow_."  
"Huh," Rachel said. "I did not know that."  
She frowned.  
"Why did I not know that?" she said. "I mean, I learned about Carol and Susan on the same day I moved in with you, but this is the first I hear about Phoebe."  
Monica turned the stove off and turned to Rachel.  
"Well, I can think of two main reasons," she said. "First, it's Phoebe. On a ten-point scale of weird things Phoebe does, one being the most normal and ten being the most insane, dating women gets about three. Maybe two and a half. It's not really worth talking about. Comparatively."  
"Yeah, OK, I can see that," Rachel said.  
"Second, it's Ross," Monica said. "Carol and Susan wouldn't come up anywhere near as often as they do if Ross didn't keep being totally freaked out about them. If he'd just calm down, it'd just be Susan his ex-wife who he shares custody of Ben with."  
"True, true," Rachel nodded.  
"So, to sum up," Monica said. "Phoebe - freaky. Ross - freaked. Now come over and taste this. If you like it, we're having it for dinner with pasta."

"Can I ask you something?" Rachel said.  
She and Phoebe were at the Central Perk, and for once no one else from the gang was there. They'd had coffee while chatting, and Rachel had hesitated so long about asking that Phoebe had just gotten up to leave.  
"Sure, what?" she said.  
Rachel nervously licked her lips.  
"When we were at your place," she said. "What did you mean when you said that I think I'm straight?"  
"Well, you do, don't you?" Phoebe said.  
"I am straight," Rachel said.  
Phoebe smiled and pointed at her.  
"See?!" she said. "There you go!"  
"No, Pheebs," Rachel said. "I don't _think_ I'm straight, I _am_ straight."  
"Oh, no, you're not," Phoebe said.  
"Excuse me?!"  
"I mean, you like to present this image of being a proper vanilla suburban white girl. And that's fine, except you're really not."  
"I'm not?" Rachel said. "So what am I then?"  
"You're a bisexual submissive slut," Phoebe said.  
Rachel let out an upset gasp.  
"I'm not bisexual!" she said.  
"Or submissive," she added.  
Phoebe's smile changed in a way that suddenly made Rachel's heart beat faster.  
"Oh really?" Phoebe said. "Care to test that theory?"  
"Yeah, uh, sure," Rachel said.  
" _Stand up_ ," Phoebe said.  
Rachel found herself moving before she'd even really consciously heard the command. There was something to Phoebe's voice that just made her... want to obey. At a visceral level.  
"Good girl," Phoebe said.  
She took a step forward, ending up really close to Rachel. She reached around her with one arm, and buried her hand in the hair on the back of Rachel's head. With one movement, she pulled Rachel really close and forced her head to tilt back by pulling on her hair. Weirdly, having her hair pulled at like that felt far more pleasurable than painful, even though there was some pain in there.  
"Last chance to beg me to stop," Phoebe whispered, her face so close to Rachel's that Rachel could feel her breath.  
Feelings raced through Rachel's body. Nice feelings. Feelings that made her heart beat faster and a tense heat gather at the bottom of her belly.  
"Please," she whispered.  
If her life depended on it, she couldn't have said if she meant to beg Phoebe to stop or not to stop.  
Phoebe's other arm went around the small of Rachel's back, pulling her hard up against the taller woman's body. Rachel was about to let out an excited whimper when Phoebe's mouth took possession of hers. She still made a needy sound somewhere deep in her throat. Her mouth opened, letting Phoebe's tongue in. From somewhere far away, from another world, came the sound of an entire tray full of coffee cups hitting the floor. It didn't matter. All that mattered, all that momentarily existed, was the wonderful feeling of strong arms, a soft body and a warm hungry mouth possessing her.  
Phoebe's lips pulled away. Rachel tried to follow, but the hand that was still buried in her hair held her back with implacable force.  
"You may sit down," Phoebe said.  
She let go of Rachel's head and waist, and Rachel more fell onto the couch than sat down, as her knees had turned to jelly.  
"There," Phoebe said. "I believe that illustrates my point."  
She smiled at the still stunned Rachel and left.

For the rest of the week, Rachel could not stop thinking about Phoebe's kiss. She couldn't deny that it had turned her on. A lot. More than any other single kiss in her life, actually. She'd had to go home and change clothes afterwards, since the seam down the crotch of her jeans was driving her crazy and she ran a real risk of developing a visible wet spot right there.  
All of which lead to the uncomfortable conclusion that Phoebe was right. Bisexual? Well, Phoebe had pretty much killed the idea that Rachel only liked boys. So yes. Submissive? She'd never thought about that before, but Phoebe ordering her around and physically forcing her, even if just a little, had also turned Rachel on. And also a lot. Possibly more than any other single thing ever. So yes to that too. Slut? Anyone who'd gone to high school with her knew _that_.  
She found herself looking at other women differently. Or at least attractive women. It was as if a switch had flipped in her head. Where she used to mentally compare them to herself, and either feel secretly superior or resentful depending on the result, now suddenly she mostly wanted to see them naked. Which occasionally became a problem.

"Are you staring at my breasts?!"  
Her client was a young Upper East Side blonde, with far more money than brains and the best tits her dad's money could buy. Which was plenty, and Rachel had indeed been staring.  
"Oh, no, of course not," she laughed. "Or, well, a little, but just to determine what kind of bra would best shape and show off your chest in that dress."  
"Oh," the girl said.  
She pushed her chest out a little more and looked at herself in the mirror. Rachel desperately tried to remember her name.  
"Yeah," the girl said. "I guess something that lifts a bit would look nice."  
"Yes!" Rachel said, relieved that her excuse had worked. "That's exactly what I was thinking!"  
"So show me what you have," the girl said. "I want to try _all_ of it."  
With quick, well-practiced moves she slipped out of the dress and removed her bra. Leaving her in nothing but lace panties and high heels.  
"Right," Rachel said, desperately trying not to stare at the suddenly very naked breasts in front of her. "I'll be right back."  
It was going to be a _long_ afternoon.

Friday evening found Rachel angrily ringing Phoebe's doorbell. She'd rushed over straight from work, and was still wearing her oh-so-modest tan dress and pretty but feet-torturing pumps.  
"It's all your fault!" she said the moment Phoebe opened the door.  
"All right," Phoebe said. "What is?"  
Rachel pushed her way past Phoebe into the apartment. Phoebe calmly closed the door behind her.  
"This!" Rachel said. "This whole liking _girls_ thing! It's all your fault! You fix it!"  
"Finding yourself isn't something to fix, Rachel," Phoebe said.  
Rachel sat down on the nearest flat surface. Which turned out to be the sofa table.  
"But it's killing me," Rachel said. "There are so many hot women, and now I can't not see them!"  
"Hasn't there always been hot guys?" Phoebe asked.  
"Not nearly as many," Rachel said. "It's kind of weird, actually. Guys don't really care how they look. Women do. Women actually make an effort to look hot. How do lesbians get through life?"  
Her hands flew to her mouth.  
"Oh God!" she said. "Is this how it'll be _for the rest of my life_?"  
Phoebe gave her a long, appraising look.  
"I think I know what your problem is," she said.  
"You do?" Rachel said. "Well, spit it out! What is it? How do I fix it?"  
"Well, first, you're new to the whole bisexual thing," Phoebe said. "So hot women still has the thrill of the new for you. It will fade, believe me. In time you'll learn that women are just as bad as men, only usually in different ways."  
While she talked, she walked close to Rachel until she was standing between Rachel's spread knees. Her long yellow sleeveless dress obscured most of her shapes, but not all.  
"Second," she said, "I'm pretty sure you haven't gotten laid since we went to the beach house, and that was Ross. You're mad horny."  
Rachel looked up at Phoebe, and saw the same predatory smile she'd seen at the coffee shop.  
"Do you want me to fuck you, little slut?" Phoebe said, her voice suddenly deeper and smoother.  
"What?" Rachel said, instead of the defense of Ross' bedroom skills that she'd intended.  
She'd heard, all right, she just didn't believe it.  
"I asked," Phoebe said, "if you want me to fuck you, little slut."  
A tingling feeling spread across Rachel's skin. It seemed to be powered by a sudden hot feeling in her lower belly.  
"Uh, yeah?" she said. "That'd be..."  
She had no idea what the next word after that should be. Fun? Hot? Interesting? All of the above?  
"So beg for it," Phoebe said.  
"What?" Rachel said again.  
"Beg for it," Phoebe said. "Get down on your knees and beg for the privilege of having me use you for my pleasure."  
Phoebe was still standing between Rachel's knees, her legs touching the edge of the table Rachel was sitting on. Blocking any easy way for Rachel do get down on the floor. Which Rachel suddenly very much wanted to do. The tingling skin had rapidly escalated to a pounding heart and a familiar wet heat between her legs. She started climbing around Phoebe's legs, trying hard not to hit anything on the way. Phoebe just stood and watched as Rachel made her uncomfortable way, ending with falling on her ass the last foot or so down to the carpet. She hurried up on her knees.  
"Please fuck me, Phoebe?" she said.  
"Right now, your name for me is 'Mistress'," Phoebe said. "Also, you can beg better than that. Try again."  
While she spoke, she turned away from the table so she was facing Rachel.  
Phoebe licked her lips. Beg better? What did that mean?  
"Please, please, Mistress," she tried. "I really need you to fuck me."  
That got a raised eyebrow in return.  
"Please use my slutty body as you see fit?" Rachel tried.  
"Better," Phoebe said. "Something like that might work, if I could actually see the slutty body you're offering me."  
That was at least pretty clear. Rachel reached behind herself and, for once, managed to pull her dress' zipper down at the first try. She squirmed her way out of it without getting up, then started removing her pantyhose. Doing it on the floor like that, with Phoebe standing watching her the whole time, felt totally humiliating. It also turned her on even more than she already was. Once the pantyhose was thrown aside, her bra and panties quickly followed. She got back on her knees, right in front of Phoebe's bare feet. She tried to arch her back so Phoebe could see her tits.  
"Please fuck me, kind mistress?" she said. "My slutty body craves your touch. Use me however you want."  
The subservient phrases came surprisingly easily to her.  
"Well, I can hardly say no to that," Phoebe said. "But do you mean it, slut? Do you really want to let me do whatever I want to you?"  
"Tonight, yes," Rachel said, in a fit of sanity.  
"Well, then," Phoebe said. "Pick a safeword."  
"A what?" Rachel said.  
Phoebe stroked her cheek.  
"You're such a natural at this that it's easy to forget you're a total newbie at it," she said. "You just said I can do whatever I want to you. Which I will. That includes not caring if you say no to something."  
Rachel swallowed nervously.  
"Er, ok," she said.  
"So to give you an out if something really, truly goes too far for you and it really stops being any kind of fun, you have a safeword. That's a word that's very unlikely to come up naturally, and if you say it we immediately stop for the night. It's a safety valve for if things get _bad_ , not a brake if things get uncomfortable. OK?"  
Rachel nodded.  
"OK," she said.  
"Now pick one. Something you'll remember, but won't reasonably need to say."  
"Er, dustpan?" Rachel said.  
"Sure, why not," Phoebe said. "Your safeword is dustpan. Now let's see how good you are at licking pussy. Seeing you like this has made me crazy horny."  
Rachel's nervousness went up another notch. She licked her lips.  
"I've never done that before," she said.  
Phoebe slapped her. Not very hard, but enough for it sting and to turn her head.  
"When you talk to me you call me mistress," she said. "Now try that again."  
Rachel swallowed.  
"I've never licked anyone's pussy, mistress," she said.  
"We'd better have you practice a lot, then," Phoebe said. "On your hands and knees, into the bedroom. You know where it is."  
Rachel started crawling.

"Wow, you're late," Monica said when Rachel finally made it home. "It's well past midnight. Something happen at work?"  
Monica was in her pyjamas, obviously just finished getting ready for bed.  
"Ah, no, work's... well, not fine, but as fine as it gets," Rachel said. "I just went to Phoebe's after."  
"Oh," Monica said. "Did you do anything interesting?"  
Rachel choked on nothing, just a little. She felt herself start to blush. She quickly turned to the coat rack and made a show of hanging up her coat.  
"Oh, just hung out," she said.  
Which in this case meant that Phoebe had tied Rachel's hands behind her back and made her eat pussy non-stop until Phoebe had come about half a dozen times. After which she'd tied Rachel face-up over a table and fucked her with a strap-on while whipping her tits. Which had made Rachel come enough times that she'd lost count. As well as other stuff. Stuff that made Rachel wet just by thinking of it. Stuff she wanted more of.  
"I know I'm not your mom or anything," Monica said. "But it would've been nice if you'd called. I was worried."  
"Oh," Rachel said.  
She hadn't thought about that.  
"Sorry," she said. "I really should have. I didn't think."  
Monica looked like she didn't really know where to go or what to do.  
"It's fine," she said. "It's your life. You should do what you want."  
She laughed a little. It sounded kind of hollow.  
"Also, I got the underside of the stove cleaned," she said.  
Rachel smiled fondly at her.  
"I love that you actually mean the underside of it, and not just under it, like normal people would," she said. "Come on, let me give you a hug before you go to bed."  
Monica smiled and opened her arms. Rachel hurried over and put her arms around her friend. It was a warm, nice and comfortable feeling. It kept going rather longer than she'd intended, but it felt so good she didn't want to let go. Apparently, Monica didn't want to let go either.  
"You smell odd," Monica said eventually. "Did you try a new perfume or something?"  
Rachel felt her face burn again. Any new smell on her would be from Phoebe's ...juices.  
"You know, Phoebe's apartment," she tried.  
"Oh, yeah," Monica said. "I do _not_ miss her aroma candles and oils and incenses and stuff."  
She placed a quick kiss on Rachel's forehead, then finally let go. Rachel immediately missed the feel of her body.  
"I'm off to bed," Monica said. "See you tomorrow."  
"Yeah, right," Rachel said. "Good night."  
It took her a long time to fall asleep that night. It had been a long, strange day. For one, Phoebe had proven to her beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was indeed bisexual. She'd been sort of ready for that. She hadn't really been prepared to find out that she got off _really hard_ on being ordered around and treated like a sex slave. Another thing Phoebe had been right about was that a large part of her problem with not being able to ignore hot women was simple horniness. On the subway on her way home, there had been plenty of party-dressed young women, many of whom had been quite attractive. After having been very thoroughly gone over by Phoebe less than an hour before, she had no problem mostly ignoring them.  
So there was at least that.

Sunday afternoon, Phoebe called.  
"I'm horny," she said as soon as she heard Rachel's voice. "Take off your panties and your bra and come on over."  
"But I..." Rachel started saying, but found herself talking to the dial tone before she'd got the first word out.  
She looked at the phone. She'd really been intending to spend the afternoon and evening taking it easy. Reading some fashion magazines. Choosing her outfits for the coming week. She didn't like changing her plans. On the other hand, sex with Phoebe was a very appealing thought. She was getting excited just thinking about it. And the more she thought about it, the more obvious it got that if she didn't go she'd just spend the rest of the day regretting not doing it.  
"Oh, crap," she said to nobody in particular.  
Then she went to change clothes.

Being out on the streets wearing nothing but a white spaghetti-strap dress, a red bolero jacket and pumps felt weird. Exposed, but not exposed at the same time. Kind of risky. She kept being aware that it wouldn't take very much for someone to discover that she was nearly naked. Her legs from mid-thigh and down as well as plenty of cleavage was visible to anyone who looked. Also, she was pretty sure that a small child on the subway who'd been standing next to her, holding his mother's hand, had looked up her dress and seen her well-shaved pussy. It was probably good for his education.  
By the time she knocked on Phoebe's door she was already pretty worked up, and seriously looking forward to getting fucked. No, not just fucked. To get _used_.  
Phoebe opened the door. She looked Rachel carefully up and down.  
"Did you do as I said?" she asked.  
"Of course, mistress," Rachel said.  
"Good girl," Phoebe said.  
She stepped aside so Rachel could enter. The moment Rachel was inside and the door closed, she pulled her close and kissed her, deep, hard and quick.  
"Are you ready?" she asked.  
Rachel nodded, reeling a bit from the kiss.  
"Say your safeword once before we begin," Phoebe said.  
"Dustpan," Rachel said.  
"Good," Phoebe said.  
She pushed Rachel's bolero down her arms, leaving it bunched up around her wrists. She none too gently pushed Rachel up against the wall, so the jacket was wedged between Rachel's back and the wall, quite effectively restraining her arms.  
"Let's see if you really did follow instructions, shall we?" Phoebe said.  
She pushed the straps of Rachel's dress off her shoulders and down her arms, until the top of the dress slid down below her bare breasts.  
"Nice," Phoebe said.  
She put her hands on the just revealed breasts, and gently caressed them for a moment before she pinched both nipples hard. Rachel let out a brief pained yell.  
"That," Phoebe said, "was just because I felt like it. And you'll let me do whatever I like. Won't you, slave?"  
"Yes, mistress," Rachel whispered.  
In a weird way she still didn't quite understand, the pain in her nipples felt good. Excited her. Felt right.  
"Let's see further down, shall we?" Phoebe said.  
She pulled up the hem of Rachel's dress almost to her waist. Underneath was nothing but Rachel. The smooth, pale skin of her thighs, the wetly glistening redder skin of her vulva, the slightly prickly skin where she'd shaved her pubic hair and then more smooth pale skin.  
"Hold this," Phoebe said, pushing the hem into Rachel's hands. "Don't let it go, and don't let your back lose contact with the wall. Do you understand?"  
Rachel nodded.  
"Yes, mistress," she said.  
"Spread your legs."  
Rachel did as she was told, sliding down the wall a little in the process. Which made her dress ride up, of course, bunching it under her breasts. Phoebe pulled it back down a bit.  
"Good girl," she said. "You've earned a little reward, I think."  
She put her hand between Rachel's legs, ran her fingers up and down the slick labia a few times. Rachel opened her mouth to let out a pleasured breath, which turned into an outright moan as her mistress' fingers slid inside her. Phoebe kept moving her fingers, in and out, touching her clitoris with her thumb at the top of each stroke. It felt so good. Rachel couldn't help but twitch her pelvis forward. When she did, Phoebe immediately removed her hand.  
"Ah!" she said. "I said keep your back to the wall!"  
She slapped each of Rachel's breasts, hard enough to make her cry out with the pain. Before the hurt had subsided, Phoebe's strong fingers clamped down on her nipples, pinching and twisting them. The pain of that was much worse than that from the slaps. At least partly because Phoebe kept twisting.  
"Make sure to keep that back to the wall," Phoebe said. "Hold on to that dress hem. Or you'll find out what I do when I _really_ want to punish you. Do you understand!"  
Grimacing and teary-eyed with pain, Rachel nodded as enthusiastically as she could.  
"Good," Phoebe said.  
She let Rachel's nipples go. She returned her hand to Rachel's pussy and started fingering her again. The feelings of pain and pleasure mixed in Rachel, making it nearly impossible to tell one from the other. She felt an orgasm start to build inside her. She closed her eyes, moaning uncontrollably.  
And that's when someone knocked on the door.  
Rachel tensed up. She almost moved, but the very recent painful memory stopped her. She did fail to stifle a disappointed whimper when Phoebe pulled her hand away.  
"Stay as you are," Phoebe said.  
"Yes, mistress," Rachel said.  
And then she just stood there. Holding her dress up and with her legs spread.  
"Hey, I'm here to pick up those books," a voice said when Phoebe opened the door.  
Rachel recognized the voice. It was that girl Phoebe dated. Denise.  
"Oh, right," Phoebe said. "I got distracted, so I haven't packed them up. Come on in and wait and I'll be right back."  
She headed off into the apartment. Denise entered and closed he door behind herself. She was heading for the couch when she saw Rachel, and abruptly stopped.  
They looked at each other, both very still. Rachel because she was kind of afraid to move. Denise apparently because she was surprised to see a half-naked woman exposing her crotch in Phoebe's living room.  
"Not so straight, then?" Denise said after a while.  
Rachel shook her head.  
"Horny?"  
Rachel nodded.  
"Mistress Phoebe?" Denise shouted.  
"Yes, sweetie?" Phoebe responded from the bedroom.  
"Can I play with your other slave while I wait?"  
Rachel gasped in offended surprise. Who was this chick to treat her as some kind of living toy? ...Although, of course, she _was_ Phoebe's living toy at the moment. And, to be honest, most moments when Phoebe was around.  
"If she agrees to it, sure," Phoebe shouted. "She knows her orders."  
Denise approached Rachel, looking her carefully up and down on the way.  
"I guess your orders are basically to keep standing like that?" she asked.  
Rachel nodded again.  
"Gets old pretty quick, doesn't it?"  
Another nod.  
"So what do you say, gorgeous?" Denise said when she was almost standing between Rachel's spread legs. "May I play with you? At least it'll give you something else to think about. And I must say that I think your pussy looks absolutely delectable."  
Thoughts whirled around Rachel's head. Letting a woman she didn't even know use her sexually? The thought was really exciting, but... It _definitely_ wasn't something the old Rachel would do. The Rachel who had been about to marry a man she didn't actually love. The Rachel who'd lived her life just as her parents wanted. She'd come a long way since then. Lived her life the way she herself wanted. And the truth was that she really liked being used like this, and Denise was very pretty.. She caught Denise's gaze and nodded, slowly and carefully. Denise smiled.  
"I'll make sure you don't regret this," Denise whispered.  
Denise turned her head to the bedroom door.  
"Mistress?" she shouted. "What's the new slave's safeword?"  
"Dustpan!" Phoebe shouted back. "Make sure she doesn't need to use it!"  
"Don't worry," Denise said, in a voice clearly meant more for Rachel than Phoebe.  
She bent down and took one of Rachel's nipples in her mouth, gently sucking at it and caressing it with her tongue. The warm, wet feeling quickly rekindled the fires inside her that had died down when Phoebe stopped fingering her to open the door. She moaned. Quite loud, since she saw no reason to keep quiet. Cold air hit her nipple as Denise started kissing her way down Rachel's body. Rachel focused on staying in the position she'd been ordered to hold, rightly assuming that it would soon be quite hard. The touch of Denise's lips left her just above her wet labia.  
"Are you ready?" Denise said.  
"Yes," Rachel said. "Dear God, yes!"  
Denise's lips closed over Rachel's clitoris at the same time as two of her fingers slid inside her soaking wet vagina. Denise proceeded to suck, lick and finger-fuck her hard and fast. Rachel's excitement skyrocketed. Her whole body tensed, her legs pressing herself hard into the wall and her hands clenched rigid on her dress' hem. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she screamed her throat raw as the most intense orgasm she'd ever felt in her entire life ravaged her body. As soon as she felt it fading, Denise would give her clitoris another hard suck and her g-spot another good tickle and Rachel would be off on another trip into ecstacy-land. By the time Denise finally pulled back Rachel was close to sobbing from the sheer intensity of it all. Every single muscle she had was trembling and she was panting like she'd ran a marathon. Somehow, she still managed to keep her back to the wall and her hem lifted.  
"Wow," Phoebe said. "That was really something!"  
She was sitting on the sofa table, just where Rachel had sat before. She was smiling happily.  
"Thank you, mistress," Denise said. "It was fun."  
"You can let go and sit down, Rachel," Phoebe said. "You've been a really good slave."  
Rachel slid down the wall, just barely having the strength to keep from a full-on collapse.  
"Thank you, mistress," she said, voice weak and hoarse.  
"So, Denise," Phoebe said. "Do you have any plans for tonight?"  
"None that I can't change with a phone call," Denise said.  
"Rachel?" Phoebe said. "How do you feel about spending the night having a threesome?"  
She looked at Phoebe, then Denise, then back at Phoebe.  
"Just give me a few minutes rest and a glass of water," she said. "And I'll be all for it."  
"Denise?" Phoebe said. "Want to stay over?"  
"Very much, mistress," Denise said.  
"Well, then," Phoebe said.  
She stood up.  
"Denise, get Rachel a glass of water," she said. "When she's rested enough to stand up on her own, undress her and take her into the bedroom."  
She grinned at the two of them.  
"I've got a bunch of ropes to get ready," she said.

Much later that night, Rachel lay on her back on Phoebe's bed, with her arms tied to the bedposts and her legs parted widely by a spreader bar. She was busy licking the pussy of Phoebe, who was sitting on her face. Concentrating on improving her cunnilingus skills was hampered by Denise playing around, on and in Rachel's sex with a high-powered vibrator. And as she lay there, immobilized by ropes and with pussy juices dripping down her cheeks, she realized that that was exactly where she wanted to be. No matter who she'd used to be before running out of that marriage ceremony, right now she was someone who greatly enjoyed submitting sexually to a good friend and having threesomes with hot women she hardly knew. All doubts she'd had about if this was normal, if this was right, just faded away. Sure, she'd have to have a conversation with Phoebe about boundaries between play times and normal times, but that was a practical matter.  
It was also a matter for another day. She tilted her head a little further back, pushed her mouth a little harder against Phoebe's pussy and redoubled her efforts to make Phoebe come with only her tongue.


	2. Monica

For the next three months or so, Rachel spent at least one night a week at Phoebe's getting comprehensively fucked. Once she got used to the thought of it, it wasn't so strange. She and Phoebe just changed their relationship from friends to friends with benefits. So what if those benefits included ropes, chains, cuffs, whips, dildos, butt plugs, vibrators, paddles, nipple clamps, blindfolds, gags, crops and other things? All those were just toys that adults used. OK, maybe not all adults, but enough. All in all, getting laid on the regular (and well) was enough to make Rachel's life bearable. With that, she could stand her boring dead-end job and the crappy apartment she lived in. So she was more than a little bit miffed when Phoebe told her that they'd have to call it quits.  
"I have to be careful with the fetuses," she said. "They may be growing in me, but they're not really mine to risk, you know?"  
Rachel did know. She also understood, and didn't try to argue, no matter how much it disappointed her. Her life went back to crappy home, sucky job, no sex and an incredibly irritating guy waking her up at the ass-crack of dawn on a Saturday by singing a stupid song about mornings. It was the last one that made her snap. Which she did later the same day, after a lot of ranting, arguing, planning and more stupid bets that she and Monica lost left her with nothing but a sense of complete and utter despair.

"I don't care," Rachel said after the guys had taken off to use their ill-gotten basketball tickets. "I want our apartment back, whatever they say."  
"They won," Monica said. "We lost it. I'm sorry."  
She was leaning against the kitchen counter, looking tired and sad.  
"Why?" Rachel said. "It's in your name, isn't it? We call the authorities on them! Have the police throw them out!"  
She was pacing back and forth across the smallish room.  
"It's in my grandmother's name" Monica said. "Having any authorities noticing the situation is the last thing we want. That would just lead to _all_ of us losing the apartment."  
"So what do we do?" Rachel said. "I can't stand this! I need a nice home! That I can afford on my crappy salary."  
She looked into thin air for a moment.  
"I'm screwed, aren't ?" she said.  
"I'm sorry, Rach," Monica said. "I really am. This is mostly my fault."  
"Yes!" Rachel said, pointing accusingly at Monica. "It is! So you fix it!"  
"I can't. Again, I'm sorry!"  
"You could just move in while they're at the game," Phoebe said.  
She'd been sitting there, quiet, in one of the large brown loungers. Both Rachel and Monica turned to look at her.  
"Come again?" Rachel said.  
"They'll be gone for hours," Phoebe said. "You could just move all their stuff in here and all your stuff in there."  
"We could do that!" Rachel said. "Come on, let's get started!"  
She picked up the nearest chair.  
"They'll just force us to move back," Monica said. "It'll just be a lot of carrying for no use."  
"Ah," Phoebe said. "That is where my genius plan comes in!"  
Rachel put the chair down.  
"OK, let's hear it," she said.  
"When the guys insist that you move everything back," Phoebe said. "You offer to let them watch you kiss, if you get to keep the apartment."  
Both Rachel and Monica stared at Phoebe for a breath or two.  
"Yeah, that'd probably work," Rachel said.  
She waited for Monica to say something, but no response came.  
"It would totally work," Phoebe said. "Those two are even more hung up on watching women together than most guys."  
"Monica?" Rachel said.  
She looked at her friend. Her best friend. Who was blushing and looking everywhere except at Rachel.  
"Hey, Mon?" Rachel said. "Is something wrong?"  
"Noooo," Monica said. "Of course nothing is wrong. What would be wrong? It's just that... would you really want to kiss me? I mean, neither of us are into women."  
She turned and gave Rachel a long, weird look. It looked almost begging to Rachel, but that made no sense.  
"If it gets me the apartment back," she said, dodging Monica's question, "I'll have sex with you in the middle of Times Square in broad daylight."  
"Ooh, I'd love to see that!" Phoebe said. "Can you do that please?"  
Monica glared at her.  
"No!" she said. "We're not having sex. We offer to let the guys see us kiss. For one minute."  
"Could go longer, if they bargain," Rachel said. "If they really push it, some groping. But nothing under the clothes and no nudity. They don't deserve to see that, the apartment-stealing bastards."  
"Right," Monica said. "Kissing. We kiss. Us. With the kissing."  
"Yay!" Phoebe said. "Now get packing and carrying."

"All right," Rachel said. "We figured you might respond this way, so we have a backup offer."  
They'd just unchained an opened the door to _their_ apartment. In the hallway outside, Chandler was glaring furiously at them, and Joey was looking uncomfortable.  
"Oh no-no-no," Chandler said. "No more offers! You can't offer anything to us!"  
"Let us keep the apartment..." Rachel said.  
"...and as a thank you," Monica continued, "Rachel and I will kiss for one minute."  
Chandler, who had clearly been about to say something more, shut his mouth abruptly. Behind him, Joey made incomprehensible noises and waved his arms.  
"You'll kiss?" Chandler said. "You two will kiss each other?"  
"We will," Monica said. "For one minute. Phoebe will time it."  
"Open mouths?" he said.  
"Yes," Rachel said.  
"Tongues?"  
"Also yes," Monica said.  
"Make it two minutes and you have a deal," Chandler said.  
"Ooh, you drive a hard bargain, Chandler Bing," Rachel said.  
"OK," Monica said. "Two minutes."  
"Wait!" Phoebe said.  
The other four turned to look at her. She frantically started digging through her purse.  
"Ah-ha!" she finally said, holding up an old pocket watch. "I'm ready. Want me to count down?"  
Rachel turned to Monica. Who looked unusually gorgeous in her black dress. She was also looking back at Rachel with an expression of mixed fear and excitement. Rachel suddenly wished that she was wearing something more exciting than a t-shirt and sweat pants.  
"Sure, count down," she said, without moving her gaze from Monica.  
Had Monica's lips always looked that soft? That inviting?  
"THREE!" Phoebe shouted.  
Monica took a step closer to Rachel, close enough that they were almost touching.  
"TWO!"  
Rachel put her arms around Monica's waist and gently pulled her all the way close. Monica's arms went around Rachel's neck. They were looking deeply into each other's eyes. Rachel's pulse was speeding up, and she felt her breath getting faster.  
"ONE!"  
Monica's body was warm and soft and fit amazingly well against Rachel's. She still looked scared, but the way she was melting into Rachel's embrace proved well enough that she was anything but unwilling.  
"KISS!"  
Their lips met. Rachel's eyes closed. She embraced Monica a little harder, relishing the feeling of having all of her that close. She felt Monica's lips part and her tongue gently probe her own. She opened her own lips in return, letting Monica in. She let one hand move up until she was caressing the back of Monica's head, while the other moved down to rest on her ass. Everything around them faded into irrelevance. All that mattered was the wonderful, amazing feeling of holding and kissing Monica. Her oldest friend. Her best friend. Possibly the most important person in her life. Feelings suddenly stormed inside her, and she tried to let them show with the intensity of the kiss. She heard a moan, and she honestly couldn't tell if it came from herself or Monica. It certainly felt like Monica was responding to and returning her passion. Monica's pelvis was pushing hard against her, and she began to twist hers to allow her thigh to move in between Monica's legs. She pushed her tongue harder into Monica's mouth, and that time the moan definitely came from Monica.  
"And... TIME!"  
Rachel kept kissing. Kept holding on. Kept feeling smelling tasting touching Monica. Who didn't show any signs of letting up either.  
"Er, guys?" Phoebe said. "You can stop now."  
"Oh, no," Joey said. "Please, let them continue. We don't want to hurry anything."  
That finally broke through to Rachel. She pulled back and let go, panting quite a bit. Her heart was going a thousand miles an hour. That felt _good_. In front of her, Monica was touching her lips, looking stunned and amazed. Rachel made an effort to collect herself. She turned to the guys.  
"All right!" she said. "That's enough show for you. This is our apartment now."  
"Yup," Joey said. "Sure is."  
"Right," Chandler said.  
He looked a bit stunned.  
"Er, good night," he said. "See you tomorrow."  
They left. Rachel closed the apartment door. Elation suddenly filled her as it sunk in that she finally had her home back. She turned around.  
"Yes!" she said. "It worked! We got it back!"  
She threw her arms into the air and laughed manically. Phoebe got up from her chair.  
"My work here is done," she said. "I'll be going home."  
While she packed up her things and got her coat on, Rachel joyfully danced around the apartment.  
"Enjoy the apartment," Phoebe said. "I'll be back tomorrow, to further improve your lives. See you!"  
"Bye, Pheebs!" Rachel said.  
"Yeah, er, bye," Monica said.  
Rachel stopped dancing and looked at Monica. She was sitting on the couch's armrest, looking stunned.  
"Hey, Mon, are you OK?" she said.  
Monica looked up. She shook her head a little.  
"Um, yeah, I'm fine," she said.  
She stood up and visibly gathered herself.  
"Just amazed that we got the apartment back," she said. "Yay!"  
She did a little fist pump.  
"You sure?" Rachel asked. "You look a bit weird."  
"Weird?" Monica said.  
She emitted a short, fake laugh.  
"Why would I be weird?" she said.  
"I don't know," Rachel said. "Are you?"  
"I'm fine," Monica said. "Just tired after a long, emotional day. I think I'll just go to bed. In my own bedroom."  
"Yeah, me too," Rachel said. "It's going to be so great to sleep in my own room again!"  
"So, er, good night," Monica said.  
After which she hurried into her bedroom. Rachel frowned a little at her odd behavior, but then shrugged. Long, emotional day was a good enough explanation. She put the thought aside and went to enjoy her room.

Things got a bit better for Rachel after that. Sure, her job still sucked and she still wasn't getting laid any, but at least she had a home she liked. It made a bigger difference than she'd thought it would. And, frankly, she'd lived with a sucky job and no love life before. She could deal with that. Either could change at a moment's notice, and eventually would, it was just hard to know when. All she could do was to be ready when it did.  
The one thing that wasn't entirely back to normal was Monica. She seemed a bit subdued and wary around Rachel. She was also less casually cuddly than she used to be. The obvious guess as to why was their kiss, so Rachel decided to just wait and hope it all faded into history.  
Unfortunately, deciding to let it go was a whole lot easier than actually letting it go. She often found herself remembering the kiss, and wanting to do it again. Wanting to do more than just kiss. It was a feeling similar but different to what she had for Phoebe. With Phoebe, she just plain wanted to fuck. Pure, unadulterated lust. Even with Phoebe's increasingly large baby bump, disturbingly enough.  
With Monica it was different. Yes, she'd absolutely love to have sex with her. But, to use the kind of mushy metaphor you heard in romantic movies, she didn't want to fuck Monica, she wanted to make love to her. Monica wasn't just a very attractive woman, she was _Monica_. Rachel's best friend since childhood. One of the pillars of her life. Monica was important to her in a way that Phoebe, as good a friends as she was, frankly was not. Rachel would be able to do without Phoebe in her life a whole lot easier than without Monica.  
That very importance made it hard to ask her about how she was feeling. So Rachel kept trying to ignore the problem.

"Can I ask you something?" Monica said suddenly one evening.  
They'd been watching some random movie with the guys, and the rest of the friends had just left. Monica was washing up glasses, and Rachel was reading Cosmo.  
"Of course," Rachel said. "What?"  
There was a noticeable pause.  
"You've kissed women, right?" Monica said just when Rachel was about to turn around and see what was going on. "Like, more than... just the one?"  
That made Rachel do turn around on the couch, so she sat facing the back and Monica.  
"I have," she said, somewhat cautiously. "Why?"  
Monica stayed turned to her dishes.  
"Is it usually different from kissing guys?" she said.  
"Well, there's less stubble," Rachel said. "Also women usually smell better. Maybe softer lips. Otherwise, not really."  
"Oh," Monica said.  
She half-turned and looked over her shoulder at Rachel, giving her a not very convincing smile.  
"Just curious," she said.  
"Uh-hu," Rachel said. "So I take it that you haven't kissed any other women than ...just the one?"  
"Nope!" Monica said.  
"Have you wanted to?"  
"Yeah, I mean, of course I have," Monica said. "But everyone has, right? There are just so many pretty women!"  
"Nooo," Rachel said. "I don't think everyone has. I think many, if not most, women really only want guys."  
"I don't want to sleep with women!" Monica said. "I'm not a lesbian!"  
"So you've wanted to kiss other women," Rachel asked. "But not sleep with them?"  
There was another pause.  
"Right," Monica said, with a distinct lack of conviction.  
"Would it freak you out if I said that I have slept with other women?" Rachel said.  
Monica spun her head around to look at Rachel. In the process, she dropped the glass she was washing. It crashed into the side of the sink a fraction of a second before Monica reflexively tried to grab it, leading to her grabbing a big shard of glass.  
"Ow!" she said. "Fuck!"  
Rachel jumped off the couch and ran over to Monica. She could see blood. Rather more of it than was at all good. She took a deep breath and tried not to faint from the sight.  
"Let me see," she said.  
She grabbed Monica's hand. There was a long cut right through her cleaning glove, and it was bleeding quite a lot.  
"I think this needs a trip to the emergency room," she said. "Can you press a towel against it while I go call for a taxi?"  
Monica nodded, tears in her eyes.  
"Now I'll have to renumber all the glasses!" she cried.  
Taking that as a sign that she wasn't that badly hurt, Rachel hurried off to call a cab.

Of course, Rachel couldn't forget the interrupted conversation. Unfortunately, neither could she think of a good way to bring it up again. So, again, time just passed. Until the day when she called home during lunch saying she'd be working really late, and then only worked a little late.  
She entered the apartment in an unusually good mood. A very wealthy client had wanted a private shopping session after normal closing hours, and Rachel's boss had convinced her to work as late as the client wanted by offering her a commission on anything the client purchased. So she'd spent about an hour showing lots and lots of clothes to the tasteless middle-aged trophy wife. Who apparently was the kind of woman who could never make up her mind, so Rachel had started losing hope of actually selling anything. At which point someone called to invite the client to a party. Which she really wanted to go to. So she just said "I'll take it all", gave Rachel her credit card info and a delivery address and left. So, a fat commission _and_ quitting much earlier than expected.  
She hung up her coat and was about to call out for Monica when she heard that the shower was going. And the door to the bathroom was ajar. Which made it possible for her to just make out weird sounds coming from in there.  
Weird sounds that were suspiciously similar to someone moaning.  
Careful not to make any sounds, Rachel put down her purse and stalked closer to the bathroom door. Yes, someone in there was moaning all right. Someone with a female voice.  
"Aah!" the someone said, making it obvious from the voice that it was Monica.  
That it was Monica pleasing herself in the shower. Rachel kind of froze. On one hand, she wanted to stay and listen, because, hey, _hot_. On the other hand, she wanted to leave, because of the invasion of privacy. She wouldn't want someone to listen in while she was playing with herself. Nobody unintended, at least. She had just taken a careful step backward when another sound came.  
"Oh, Rachel," Monica groaned from the shower.  
Rachel froze. That was ...interesting. To say the least.  
"Oh yeah, touch me," Monica moaned. "Touch me. Touch me right there. Harder. Please harder. Oh _Rachel_."  
The temptation became too strong. Rachel pulled the door further open and stuck her head inside.  
"Yeah, I'm here," she said. "What is it?"  
From the other side of the shower curtain came sounds of someone starting so bad they lost their footing and abruptly sat down in a poorly controlled manner.  
"Rach?" Monica said. "You're home?"  
"Yeah, it went faster than expected so I got home early. Then I heard you calling for me. Is something wrong?"  
She hesitated for a moment.  
"You sound kind of out of breath," she added. "Do you need help?"  
She tried to pitch her voice a bit huskier.  
"You know I'd do anything for you, Mon," she said.  
"Of course I know," Monica said with a quavering voice. "But, uh, I just wanted to know if you were home yet. And now I do. Can you close the door please?"  
Rachel decided to be nice and not ask why, if Monica was checking if Rachel was home yet, she got so surprised when she found out that she was.  
"Sure," she said and closed the door.

When Monica came out of the bathroom, Rachel had changed into t-shirt and sweatpants and was sitting in her usual spot on the couch. Not reading or anything, just waiting. Monica aimed a weak smile Rachel's way. She held her thick bathrobe carefully closed around her.  
"You heard, didn't you?" she said.  
"I did," Rachel said.  
Monica looked like she wanted to sink into the Earth, and mumbled something impossible to hear.  
"I'm guessing that you're not all that freaked out about me playing for both teams," Rachel said.  
Monica sat down in the armchair.  
"How long have you known?" she said. "I'm pretty sure you were only into guys back in school."  
"Kind of a tricky question," Rachel said. "On some level, I've known for a long time. At least since I made out with one of my sorority sisters back in college. But it was only a few months ago that it became, like, active."  
"Active?" Monica asked.  
"Do you remember how I used to have a friends with benefits thing that I didn't want to talk about?" Rachel said.  
Monica nodded.  
"Yeah, that was Phoebe," Rachel said. "Until she got too pregnant."  
"You slept with Phoebe?!"  
Rachel nodded.  
"A _lot_ ," she added, for clarity.  
"No, I can't even pretend to be surprised," Monica said. "If anyone was going to turn you, she'd be by far the most likely."  
"She didn't _turn_ me," Rachel said. "She just showed me to myself."  
She stretched out her leg and touched Monica's knee with her toe.  
"How about you?" she said. "Earlier it sounded like you were thinking explicit thoughts about at least one woman."  
Monica looked away from her.  
"I can't stop thinking about our kiss," she said.  
"I liked kissing you," Rachel said.  
"I liked kissing you too," Monica said. "More than liked it. It was the best kiss I've ever had. It was like the end of a romance novel, with the super-amazing kiss that makes the heroine see stars and her toes curl. Except it's supposed to be with a guy, who you marry, and have kids with, and instead of a guy it's _you_ and I already can't imagine living without you and I'm making plans for how we can have kids together and you're a _woman_ and what are my parents going to say and oh God how can you be this beautiful in _sweat pants_ and I just want to hold you and kiss you and never let you go and maybe I _am_ a lesbian and that's OK because _you_ and oh God I can't deal with all this."  
She stopped and drew in a deep, deep breath. Rachel sat looking at her, stunned. Monica made a sound that was somewhere halfway between a laugh and a sob.  
"In case you didn't get it from all that," she said, "I think I'm in love with you."  
A cautious sense of elation rose inside Rachel.  
"Right back at you," she said.  
There were tears in Monica's eyes. From her expression, not good ones.  
"Except I can't," she said. "My parents. Work. I just can't be the weird one again."  
Rachel blinked at her. Her elation cracked a bit and became mixed with hard determination. Now she knew that Monica _was_ in love with her. She just had to convince her to act on it.  
"I understand," she said. "I'll learn to live with it. It's OK."

Plan to convince Monica, step one: Give Mr Treeger $50 to fix their heating so it looked as if it was set as usual, but was really a few degrees higher. Walk around at home in the skimpiest crop top and tiniest shorts she was willing to let Joey and Chandler see her in. When only Monica was around, not-so-accidentally sit or lie in revealing or suggestive poses while reading or watching TV. Pretend not to notice Monica trying hard not to ogle her, and mostly failing.

Plan to convince Monica, step two: Go out to an S&M-themed club with Phoebe. Phoebe might not have any sex for a time, or drink alcohol, but she could still dance and look at pretty people in interesting clothes. As preparation for going out, spend a couple of hours after Monica came home from work getting ready. Showering. Walking around in just a towel. Doing hair and makeup in just a towel. Spend considerable time and effort getting into an extremely tight black latex dress that absolutely did not allow any underwear to be worn, showed off almost all of Rachel's legs, most of her back and plenty of cleavage. Accessorize with a black leather slave collar, black leather wrist cuffs and black six-inch heels. Finish by having Phoebe attach a chrome chain leash to her collar and lead her away. Pretend not to notice Monica openly staring, and very nearly drooling.

Plan to convince Monica, step three: Look wistfully at Monica at times when she might reasonably think that Monica couldn't see her, although she totally could. Casually mention that she went home alone from the S&M club, "because nobody measured up". Leave what they didn't measure up to unsaid, but clearly shown with a lingering look into Monica's eyes.

Plan to convince Monica, step four: Buy a bunch of sex toys. Leave the packaging in the trash where Monica is sure to see it. Leave the door to the bedroom open a crack, and time using the biggest and noisiest vibrator to when Monica comes home from work. Pretend not to hear Monica until after a good, noisy climax. Make sure to moan Monica's name.

Plan to convince Monica, step five: Sit in the dark apartment, staring out the window at the driving rain while silently crying. When Monica asks what's wrong, claim it's nothing, she just remembered an old sad movie. Gently stroke Monica's upper arm and say "It's OK as long as _you're_ happy, sweetie". Watch Monica kind of fail to stifle a whimper.

Step six turned out to happen mostly by accident. Rachel had just showered, and was standing stark naked in the bathroom putting on skin lotion. She'd left the door open a crack for ventilation, and as she stood there, out of the corner of her eye she noticed Monica stealthily looking in through the narrow opening. On an impulse, she squirted a bit of lotion into one hand, rubbed them together to spread it out, then started slowly and carefully rubbing it onto her stomach, working up towards her breasts.  
"This would be much more fun if I had a girlfriend to help me do it," she mumbled to herself, making sure it was loud enough for Monica to hear.  
She demonstratively ran her thumbs over her nipples, closing her eyes and sighing contentedly at the feeling. A sudden waft of cool air made her open her eyes again, and look to the door. Which was now open, with Monica standing just inside. Unlike Rachel, she was full dressed, in the t-shirt and jeans combination she usually wore to and from work. She was looking at Rachel with a rapt, hungry expression.  
"Uh, hi?" Rachel said.  
Monica moved up behind Rachel, looking over her shoulder to meet her gaze in the mirror. Reaching around Rachel's torso, she grabbed the lotion bottle.  
"I heard you say you wanted someone to do this for you," she said.  
Rachel turned her head so her mouth almost met Monica's.  
"Did you also hear who I said I want to do it?" she said.  
Monica squeezed lotion into one hand, put the bottle down and spread the lotion between her hands, like Rachel had just a minute before.  
"Yes," she said.  
"I thought that's someone you don't want to be," Rachel said.  
Monica's eyes fell.  
"I thought I couldn't be," she said. "But it turns out I can't _not_ be her even more."  
Rachel didn't dare move, hardly dared breathe.  
"So do I have a girlfriend to help me with the lotion?" she whispered. "A girlfriend I can tell my friends and family about?"  
"You do," Monica said. "Girlfriend."  
She put her lotion-covered hands onto their desired targets.  
"Curse your amazing breasts," she whispered.  
Rachel reached up with one arm and pulled Monica's head into a slow, lingering kiss. Somehow, it managed to be an even better kiss than their first one.


	3. Some time later

It was early Saturday morning, and instead of being woken up by a stupid guy howling across the alley, Rachel was being woken up by her gorgeous girlfriend snuggling up to her and gently stroking her naked skin. As ways of being woken up went, it was a _huge_ improvement.  
"Are you awake?" Monica whispered.  
"No," Rachel whispered back.  
Monica's hand moved to one of Rachel's breasts, and a finger slowly made its caressing way around the nipple.  
"Can I make love to you anyway?" Monica whispered.  
Rachel smiled but didn't open her eyes.  
"If I'm asleep I can hardly stop you, can I?"  
"What if you don't like it?"  
"I'll make sure not to wake up until you're done, so I won't notice," Rachel said, still whispering.  
"I think I'll risk it," Monica whispered.  
The finger playing with her nipple went away, and was soon replaced by warm lips and a wet tongue. The finger, with its hand, made its way down Rachel's belly. She bent one leg, to make room between her legs.  
Pretending to be asleep while Monica played with her was not going to be easy.

"Do we have any plans today?" Rachel said some time later.  
She was standing at the kitchen counter, sipping from a cup of coffee. Monica was sitting at the table, with coffee and a handful of large sheets of paper. They were both in dressing gowns.  
"I said I'd help Ross go over the plans for his and Emily's wedding," Monica said. "She wants as much done as possible before they leave New York."  
Rachel grimaced and made a weird noise, somewhere between a giggle and a groan.  
"What?" Monica said.  
"Sorry, you don't want to know," Rachel said.  
"You can't just say that!" Monica said. "Now you have to tell me!"  
Rachel hesitated.  
"I don't want to say," she said.  
"Rachel!" Monica said.  
"All right!" Rachel said.  
She looked down into her coffee.  
"You're much better in bed than your brother," she said.  
Silence.  
"OK," Monica said. "Two things."  
She held up a finger.  
"One," she said. "Yes! I _win_!"  
"Two," she added. "Ew, ew, ew, ew, _ew_! Please never again make me remember that you slept with Ross!"  
"Sorry," Rachel said.  
She put her coffee mug down on the table and leaned down to see what Monica was doing. It looked like seating plans for the wedding banquet.  
"Rachel!" Monica yelled.  
She hastily but carefully removed Rachel's coffee mug. Where it had been standing was a dark brown ring. It fairly neatly joined the rings representing tables 7 and 9 on the seating plan.  
"Oh!" Rachel said. "I'm so sorry!"  
She took her mug and retreated to her former place at the counter.  
"You keep doing this!" Monica said. "I don't know how many magazines and papers and things you've put coffee stains on! What will it take to make you remember to look where you put your mugs? Do I have to spank you or something?"  
An image instantly flashed for Rachel's inner vision. An image of herself bent naked over the kitchen table, hands tied, and Monica giving her stinging buttocks a bare-handed spanking. It was a _very_ enticing image. She felt herself flush.  
"Um," she said. "OK."  
Monica looked at her, annoyed and confused.  
"OK what?" she said. "It's not OK that you keep messing up my things."  
"OK you should spank me," Rachel said.  
Her skin was tingling. Her nipples were tenting the thin cloth of her dressing gown even more than usual. Her cheeks and neck were clearly flushed.  
"Because I have been bad," she added. "And I need to be taught a lesson."  
Monica gave her a long, long look during which her eyes grew darker and her breathing deeper.  
"You're right," she said. "I think I should spank you. How else will you learn better?"  
Rachel swallowed. Monica was playing along. She hadn't been at all sure that would be the case.  
"Should I--" she said, and for a moment her emotions got so strong that words failed her.  
"Should I bend down over the table?" she tried again.  
"And mess up my seating charts even more?" Monica said. "I don't think so!"  
She got up from her chair.  
"Come here," she said, and went to sit down in the middle of the couch.  
"Lie down across my lap," she said.  
Without saying anything, Rachel did as she was told. She made a bit of a show of it, and she made particularly sure that her dressing gown stayed properly closed and as much as possible in place. She didn't think that would last many seconds, but she so much wanted the feeling of Monica uncovering her.  
"You have such a great ass," Monica said, firmly stroking said body part with the silk robe still in place.  
"Thank you," Rachel said, almost but not quite falling for the temptation to add a 'mistress' at the end of the sentence.  
Monica pulled the robe up and bunched it at Rachel's waist. Cool air struck Rachel's legs and ass. A warm hand soon followed, at least on the ass.  
"And your skin is so smooth," Monica said. "Is it sensitive too?"  
Before Rachel could answer, the hand left her skin only to return as a hard slap a fraction of a second later. She yelped and instinctively put her hands on her ass to protect it.  
"None of that!" Monica said. "No hands! This is supposed to be a learning experience for you, remember?"  
Rachel's head spun. She was rapidly heading for the comfortable submissive headspace that Phoebe had introduced her too, but at the same time she was being right there with someone she actually loved. Someone she didn't know at all if she was into this sort of thing, and if she was, to what extent.  
"I can't help myself," she said. "When you hit me, I protect myself. It's instinct. Maybe--"  
She hesitated and licked her lips before she continued.  
"Maybe you'd better tie my hands," she said. "The belt on my robe should do."  
Monica didn't answer. At least not with words. She pulled the silk belt from Rachel's robe free, then pushed Rachel's hands up to the small of her back. Where she, as suggested, tied them together. Not hard, and Rachel could tell that she'd have no problem getting out of it if she wanted to. Which she didn't. Every move, every restriction, every touch made her exponentially more excited. She was pretty sure that her pussy was dripping juices onto Monica's lap.  
"Is that better?" Monica said. "Can you keep your hands away now?"  
"Yes, mistress," Rachel breathed.  
"Good," Monica said.  
Another hard slap hit Rachel's ass. This time her hands didn't even twitch, and the sound she made was somewhere in between a yelp and a moan. More slaps followed in rapid succession, alternating between her left and right cheeks. Pretty soon, the hand that wasn't spanking her slid forward under her, pulled the top of the robe aside and started fondling her breast. That didn't exactly make her sounds any less moan-like. At some point she had parted her legs, she found, and she couldn't for the life of her remember when. She could feel an orgasm start to build inside her, even though Monica hadn't even touched her sex. It was as if the burning on her ass directly set fire to the arousal center in her brain.  
"Please, mistress," she groaned.  
"Please what?" Monica said.  
"Please let me come," Rachel said. "Please put your fingers in me. Please fuck me."  
She could hear Monica's breath hitch, and there was a tiny break in the rhythm of the hits on her ass.  
"Well, I don't know," Monica said, voice wavering. "Have you learned your lesson? Will you be more careful with your coffee cups?"  
Rachel mentally cursed that she'd placed herself so far down that she couldn't push her clit against Monica's thigh.  
"Yes, mistress," she said. "I will be more careful with my coffee cups!"  
The fingers playing with her nipple pinched down on it hard at the exact same time as Monica's finger roughly pushed into her eagerly waiting vagina. Rachel arched her back as far as she could and screamed out loud from pleasure. Monica's fingers moved fast, so fast, out and in of her. The orgasm that had been building slowly for some time took off like a rocket.  
"OH YES!" Rachel screamed. "YES FUCK ME MISTRESS! OH GOD PLEASE THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!"  
For a few moments, her vision actually blacked out from the intensity of it all. Then she fell back down, relaxed as a wrung-out dishrag. Monica's hands moved away from her pussy and tits, and instead just gently caressed her.  
"Thank you, love," Rachel breathed.  
She slid down from Monica's lap to the floor, kneeling between Monica's legs.  
"You must be worked up too, mistress," she said. "Please let me pleasure you with my mouth."  
Monica looked at her with an amazed expression, but she did scoot forward and spread her legs, putting her naked pussy right in front of Rachel's face. Her naked, wet, excited pussy. Rachel dove right in, swiping her tongue up from the opening all the way to the harder nub at the top. After a couple of months with Phoebe and Denise, this was something she _knew_ how to do. She set to using every last fraction of her cunnilingual skills to make Monica come as hard and as fast as humanly possible. It didn't take long for the effects to become obvious.  
"Oh my _GOD_!" Monica screamed. "Don't stop! I'll beat your ass raw if you stop!"  
Rachel did not stop. She wished she could've used her fingers as well as her tongue, but her hands were still tied behind her back, so she made do. Monica, on the other hand, could use her hands, and did so by burying her fingers in Rachel's hair and roughly both guiding Rachel's mouth to whatever spots she felt needed the most attention and pushing it harder against her snatch. Her shouts got louder and less coherent the harder Rachel worked on her, until she finally grabbed Rachel painfully hard by the sides of the head and held her mouth hard against her clit. Rachel sucked, licked and nibbled it as much as she could until she felt Monica's tense convulsions fade away and relax.  
"Did you enjoy that, mistress?" she said.  
When she looked up to see Monica's response, she also saw Joey and Chandler standing behind the sofa staring at them with eyes the size of frisbees.

"So you guys are, like, _together_ lesbians, not just make the guys excited lesbians?" Joey said. "You know, like Ross' ex and her wife, not like those girls in that movie?"  
The four of them were sitting around the kitchen table. Monica and Rachel were still in their dressing gowns, although those were now more modestly arranged.  
"Yes, we are together. A couple. Girlfriends. Lovers, if you wish," Rachel said.  
"And," Chandler said. "You like to tie each other up. For sex. For _kinky_ sex."  
"She likes getting tied up," Monica said, nodding at Rachel. "I, apparently, really like tying her up, and believe me, that's as much of a surprise to me as it is to you."  
"Cool," Joey said, nodding and smiling lecherously.  
"Who else knows about this?" Chandler said. "And do you know that that door over there has something called a 'lock'? For the future, you may want to look into that."  
"Nobody knows," Monica said. "We haven't told Phoebe, because she might be jealous of someone else having sex when she's too pregnant to have it herself. We didn't tell Joey because we thought he'd react exactly like he's doing right now, we didn't tell you because you'd tell Joey, and we haven't told Ross because he's going to freak out _so much_."  
"So we thought," Rachel said, "why not just wait? We already live together, and we've always been kind of cuddly with each other. Who needs to know what we do in the bedroom?"  
"Yeah, that's not the bedroom," Chandler said, pointing at the couch. "That's the _couch_. Where we _sit_ to watch TV! Oh god, you had sex where we sit!"  
"Awesome!" Joey said.  
"Please don't tell the others?" Monica said. "Let us do it when we feel it's the right time?"  
"If you let us watch once," Joey said.  
"Joey!" Monica and Rachel said in unison.  
"Not cool, man," Chandler said. "Not cool."  
"Yeah, ok," Joey said. "I wasn't serious. And of course we won't say anything."

"Maybe we should just tell them," Rachel said later in the day.  
She was, as usual, sitting on the couch leafing through a fashion magazine. Monica was, as usual, cleaning.  
"What?" Monica said.  
"Phoebe and Ross," Rachel said. "About us. Before they learn it some other way or just figure it out. It'll be worse if they do."  
Monica stopped scrubbing the kitchen counter.  
"I guess," she said.  
"I can talk to Phoebe," Rachel said. "And you can talk to Ross."  
Monica grimaced.  
"I'll want moral support for that," she said. "Please."  
"Of course," Rachel said. "Do you want to be there with Phoebe?"  
"Guess I may as well."  
"You know, she was totally right about me," Rachel said.  
"Who was? And what about you?"  
"Phoebe. She said I'm a submissive bisexual slut, and I totally am."  
"You're not a slut!" Monica said.  
"Oh please!" Rachel said. "If I'm single, I'll sleep with anyone as long as they're hot and I'm horny. Total slut. Proud of it, even."  
"Oh-kay," Monica said. "I mean, if you're fine with it. And you keep to that if you're single part."  
"I promise," Rachel said. "Although..."  
"Although what?!"  
"I really liked having threesomes with Phoebe and Denise."  
Monica coughed.  
"I see," she said. "Give me some time to think about that."  
"Yeah, of course!" Rachel said, waving her hand in Monica's general direction. "It's just, you know, an option. For the future."  
She looked thoughtful for a moment.  
"I think I still have Melissa Warburton's phone number," she said.  
"No."  
"Or, or, you've dated some pretty cute guys! No way they'd say no to a chance at both of us at the same time, right? I mean, we're _hot_."  
"Oh my God stop!" Monica said. "There will be no threesomes, or foursomes, or orgies, unless I explicitly ask for it. Understand?"  
"Oh come on," Rachel said. "Here, tell me a woman you find really hot. Other than me."  
"Confident much? But OK. Salma Hayek."  
"Oooh, good choice!" Rachel said. "Now picture her and me. Naked. Kneeling before you. Blindfolded and hands tied behind our backs. Kissing each other, sucking on each others' breasts, doing everything you tell us to, spreading..."  
"Ok, stop!" Monica said. "I get it. If you can seduce someone that famous, we can have a threesome. Is that enough? Also, you really _are_ a slut."  
Rachel smiled at her.  
"Thank you," she said. "Let's go talk to Phoebe. She's probably down at the Central Perk."

"Oh, I'm so happy for you!" Phoebe said, flailing her hands a little in their direction. "Congratulations!"  
"You don't mind?" Rachel said. "You realize that me and Monica being a couple means that you and I and Denise won't be happening any more. Even after you have the kids."  
"Oh, that's fine," Phoebe said. "You think that now."  
Monica leaned forward. She and Rachel were sitting close together in the sofa at Central Perk, and Phoebe in the armchair to the side.  
"Excuse me?" she said. "We think that now?"  
"Uh-hu," Phoebe said. "Then, later, you change your minds. Rachel kind of misses me and Denise, and Monica wants me to teach her how to be a real domme. So you come and ask, and I say yes. Denise doesn't get a say, because we'll be doing the twentyfour-seven thing at the time."  
Monica and Rachel stared at her.  
"All right," Rachel said. "I guess that's sorted, then."

"Oh, yeah, of course," Ross said when Monica called and tried to set up a meeting. "But I'm a bit busy at the moment. Could we make it, uh, middle of next week? You know, we got this new exhibit at the museum that needs to be set up, and Emily needs me to help taste the food for the wedding, and choose the flowers, and the colors for the tablecloths and apparently they have to match the chair seat covers, and the flowers, and the bridesmaids' dresses, and..."  
"Oh, yeah, of course," Ross said when Monica called again the next week. "But, uh, the delivery of the pieces for the new exhibit got a bit mixed up, so we're really late with that, and none of the food we tried was good enough for Emily, and she didn't like any of the colors for anything, so we have to do all of that all over again, so maybe if we could make it next week?"  
"Oh, yeah, of course," Ross said the week after that. "The people who were going to fix the delivery problems for the new exhibit kind of messed things up even more, so we're even later, and Emily is freaking out about the food and the seat covers, so, uh could we do it next week?"  
"Ross," Monica said. "Wednesday next week is when we go to London. Rachel and I would really like to talk to you _before_ that."  
"Yeah, uh," Ross said. "Maybe we could talk at the airport? While we're waiting to board?"  
Monica sighed at the phone.  
"OK," she said. "Let's do that."  
"Maybe we can talk on the plane?" Ross gasped the next Wednesday, after he'd got stuck in traffic and made it to the gate with less than a minute to spare before boarding closed.  
"I don't think that's a good idea," Rachel said.  
"Uh, OK, so maybe when we get there?"  
"Won't you be really busy?" Monica said.  
Ross let out a very stressed giggle.  
"Yeeeeah," he said. " _Crazy_ busy. Emily has everything planned down to the minute."  
"So when would we talk?" Rachel said.  
"I don't know," Ross said. "We'll squeeze it in."

They did not squeeze it in. Too many things happened, too many things needed handling at the last second. So eventually the five of them found themselves standing in the half-demolished chapel waiting for the wedding ceremony to start.  
"So what about Monica and Rachel, huh?" Joey said, smiling widely and not so gently elbowing Ross in the side.  
Ross frowned.  
"Oh, no, Joey," Monica said. "We didn't manage to..."  
"What!" Joey yelled. "But you said you were going to tell everyone before we went to London! We're in London!"  
"It didn't really work out that way?" Rachel said. "Sorry?"  
"So he doesn't know?!" Joey said, pointing at Ross.  
Ross had been looking back and forth between them.  
"He doesn't know what?" he finally said.  
"That Monica and Rachel are lesbian dating!" Joey said, pointing at the two of them with both hands.  
"They're what?" Ross said.  
"We're kind of," Monica said hesitantly, "together? As a couple?"  
"You're both lesbians!?" Ross said, loudly enough to make several other guests turn and look. "My ex-wife, my ex-girlfriend and my sister are all lesbians? What's the matter with me?"  
"We're actually bisexuals," Rachel said, indicating herself and Monica with a wiggle of her finger. "Which doesn't really matter right now."  
"It has nothing to do with you," Monica said. "Why do you care anyway? You're going to be married to Emily in a few minutes."  
"Maybe she's a lesbian too! You never know until it's too late!"  
Music started playing.  
"Ross?" Chandler said. "I think it's time for us to go up to the altar."  
He took hold of Ross' sleeve and led the stunned-looking groom away.

"Now, Ross," the minister said. "Repeat after me. I, Ross..."  
"I, Ross," Ross said.  
"Take thee Emily...," the minister said.  
"Take thee Rachel...," Ross said. "Emily!"  
He looked around at many shocked faces.  
"Emily," he repeated.  
The minister looked awkwardly at Emily.  
"Shall I go on?" he said.

One very tense and awkward wedding ceremony later, Monica, Rachel, Joey and Chandler were standing in the reception hall, near the entrances to the bathrooms. From the bathrooms they could all hear Emily yelling at Ross, and Ross trying to sound placating. The odd word could be made out clearly, like "spoiled", "nightmare" and "moron".  
"That could have gone better," Monica said.  
"You could say that," Chandler said. "And if you did, you'd be right."  
"Why did he say _my_ name?" Rachel said. "It's been nearly a year since we broke up, and we're both in new relationships! I don't get it."  
"It's pretty clear he's not over you," Joey said.  
"Well, he'd better get over me right quick," Rachel said. "Because I'm getting under his sister every chance I get."  
"Okay!" Monica said. "I don't think they need to know that."  
"Oh, please!" Joey said. "Spare no details!"  
There came a crash like something heavy hitting a wall from the bathrooms, and they could all hear Emily yell "You make me wish I _was_ a bloody dyke!"  
The four of them looked at each other.  
"I hear there's a bar," Chandler said. "I think I'll go try and find it. Anyone want to join?"  
Unsurprisingly, everyone did.

Later that night, Monica and Rachel were walking back to their hotel through the mostly deserted streets of London. They were holding hands and generally taking it easy. It was a reasonably pleasant night, mild and dry. The moon was shining.  
"How come you're so sensible when your brother is such a basket case?" Rachel said.  
"You used to like him just fine," Monica said.  
Rachel sighed.  
"Yeah, I did," she said. "I wonder if that was my subconscious trying to get closer to you. Now I just feel sad for him."  
"Me too, but then I pretty much have to, as his little sister," Monica said. "Although I can't help feeling that this mess was all of his own making."  
Rachel pulled Monica closer and slid her arm around her waist.  
"I should give Phoebe a box of chocolates or something," she said. "Without her, I don't think I'd ever have realized how much I love you."  
Monica's arm went around Rachel's waist, or at least as close as she could manage.  
"You love me?" she said.  
Rachel turned her head and gave her girlfriend a quick peck on the cheek.  
"Yeah, I do," she said.  
"We haven't been dating very long," Monica said.  
"I know," Rachel said. "But we've known each other nearly our whole lives. The things I didn't already know about you were pretty much all things I found out by having sex with you."  
She fell silent for a little while, then continued.  
"It doesn't really feel like we started a relationship," she said. "More like we upgraded one that already existed. I think I knew even before this that I wanted to live with you for the rest of my life, and now I'm certain of it. And when we get married, I'll definitely say the right name at the altar."  
Monica stopped. Rachel took another couple of steps, let go of her and turned around.  
"You said 'when'," Monica said.  
"Oh, sorry!" Rachel said. "I meant..."  
Monica laid a finger across Rachel's lips.  
"Hush," she said. "Please let me talk."  
Rachel nodded, and Monica removed her finger. She took Rachel's hands in hers.  
"First, I love you too," she said. "Very much. And I feel like you do. Not like I started a new relationship, but like one I already had suddenly got a whole lot better. And more exciting."  
She smiled.  
"Ok, so this is impulsive, and maybe it's a bad idea, but I really don't think so," she said.  
A bit awkwardly since she was still holding Rachel's hands, she got down on one knee.  
"Rachel Karen Greene," she said. "Will you marry me and be my wife? Even though I don't have a ring to give you right now?"  
"Oh my God," Rachel said. "Yes, of course I'll marry you!"  
She too got down on her knees on the hard pavement. She leaned forward and gave her fiancée a deep, long and passionate kiss.  
"Can we get up now?" Monica whispered when they broke the kiss. "This is hurting my knees."  
"I could say something about getting used to that," Rachel said while she first got up and then helped Monica onto her feet. "But I won't."  
"I don't want to do it like that tonight," Monica said. "Tonight I want to make gentle love to you."  
"I like that plan," Rachel said. "Let's get back to the hotel."  
They started walking again, still holding hands but with a bit more urgency than before.  
"And tomorrow we go shopping for rings?" Rachel said.  
"That we do," Monica said.  
She winced a little.  
"And try to figure out how to tell Ross that we got engaged at his disaster wedding," she said.  
Rachel patted her on the hip, as well as she could while holding on to her.  
"That one, my love," she said, "I leave entirely to you."  
And so they walked on into the London night and the rest of their lives together.


End file.
